


Tousle

by hartxstarr



Series: Romaone [9]
Category: One Piece
Genre: (post-post-apocalypse), Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 14:45:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17747858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hartxstarr/pseuds/hartxstarr
Summary: Zoro tries to do something nice but Sanji isn't having any of it.





	Tousle

**Author's Note:**

> Reading my Mare's Nest isn't required but it adds a bit of flavor to it.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” was his reply. Then, with a faint blush dusting his cheeks, the swordsman turned away and scratched the back of his neck. Not even a beat had passed. “You’re missing a table.”

“I’ve noticed.”

All Blue has been down one table for exactly two days now. There was a brief scuffle including several broken eggs and no omelettes to speak of, which led Sanji aiming to send Zoro through a table. The swordsman rolled out of the way just in time—the axe kick Sanji had swung down missed his head but split the table in two all the same.

Sanji had cursed, it had been a nice table. 

Zoro cleared his throat. “I’m trying to make one. A table,” he clarified, like it wasn’t fucking obvious what he was doing, hammer in hand, broken planks of wood around his feet. The wind blew and the trees let loose some of their leaves.

Zoro shifted his weight. “It’s harder than it looks.”

“You know the local carpenter’s a regular, right?”

A scowl broke out across the swordsman’s face then, and Sanji saw something he couldn’t quite place flash in his eyes before Zoro moved again, and he couldn’t see his face anymore.

“I’m making a table,” he declared, louder this time. Then he turned to face Sanji, hammer raised and pointed at him as if it were one of his swords. “You got a problem with that?”

“I have a problem with you wasting time on something you clearly can’t do while you _should_ be washing the dishes.”

“You don’t think I can do it?”

“That’s what I _just_ said, moron.”

Zoro raised his chin. “I’ll prove it.”

“Yeah?” Sanji scoffed. _“You’ll_ make a table for me?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it better be a damn good one.” Sanji surveyed the tools the idiot had laying around. His swords were near. “Hurry up, the severe lack of tables is hindering my business.”

 _“The severe lack,”_ he heard muttered mockingly under Zoro’s breath. “The only thing you’re lacking is self control.”

“What’d you say?”

“I said if you want a table so badly, why don’t you make one yourself?”

“Well—maybe I will! And it’ll be better than any shitty table _you_ could ever make!”

“Let’s see it, then!”

The two tables were placed next to each other where the old one used to be. One was cut clean but held together poorly while the other was rickety and way too tall for any of Sanji’s chairs. Neither of them could figure out which one was better so they let the customers decide.

Sanji tallied the poll in his notebook while Zoro watched from his booth in the corner. After a moment, the cook tore the page out and threw it in the trash bin near his feet.

Zoro perked up. “What’d it say?”

Sanji turned and rummaged through the cupboards. “None of your business.”

“It’s my business if everyone thinks your table’s lame.”

 _“You’re_ lame.”

“Your face is lame.”

“I will put your face through a table.”

“Oh yeah,” Zoro crossed his arms behind his head. “Because that worked out _so_ well last time.”

Sanji lunged.


End file.
